


The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To Is When I'm Alone With You

by yogabagabah



Series: Your Lips Tell Me We're Better Than This [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:46:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2674304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yogabagabah/pseuds/yogabagabah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cheers to the seconds-in-command who are always left to clean up the messes, left to soothe all manners of bruises and egos, left to tell the lies and cheap promises, and left to unveil the truth when it's least wanted. Cheers to those who choose to neglect their hopes and wishes because they believe in something greater. Cheers to Kuroo Tetsuro who never once caught a break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Heaven I'll Be Sent To Is When I'm Alone With You

**Author's Note:**

> Take Me to Church - Hozier
> 
> [My Tumblr](http://erenswaeger.tumblr.com/%20)
> 
> [tobiyoes art](http://tobiyoes.tumblr.com/tagged/my+art%20)

Kuroo slinked through his green, chipped door, a backpack held over one aching shoulder and a plastic grocery bag holding a large jug of detergent, some toothpaste, and deodorant hanging by his other side. He shuffled over the threshold, almost tripping on the protruding brass plate, then with a practiced hand found the light switch in the pitch darkness, bringing the room to a sudden, yellow glow. The room was not empty, as Kuroo has expected, but his surprise and the slight jolt which ran through his body was easily covered by a noisy cough and purposeful rustling of his coat. 

"Hinata. I didn't know you were staying over or I would have tried to come home sooner." Kuroo hurried over to the table and set his bags down then turned to place his coat on the coat rack by the door. Hinata remained motionless and slouched on the couch, bruised, bloody, with a face toting an unnerving blankness which made Kuroo look away uncomfortably. 

Kuroo cleared his throat, finally catching Hinata's attention. The ginger boy's whole demeanor changed: his shoulder's lifted, the color ran back to his cheeks, and the creased and dimpled lines once again appeared to form Hinata's radiant and smiling face. It was like watching a discarded robot in the corner suddenly power up, one moment the picture of lifelessness, the next, animate and full of vitality. But his eyes deceive him. Like they always did. 

This wasn't the first time Kuroo had come home to an occupied apartment, but most of the time Hinata was conked out on the floor or on the couch, a blanket sloppily draped over him and an embarrassing amount of drool stringing from his mouth. 

Kuroo turned on his heel before Hinata could try to badly convince him that everything was fine and then cheerfully ask if he could crash there for a couple of days, acting as if he didn't look like he just rolled out of the gutter and from the brink of depression. Instead he rummaged around in the guest bathroom under the sink for the first aid kit. He took out a small bottle of alcohol, some cotton balls, and bandages before returning to the living room. 

Taking a seat across from Hinata on the wooden coffee table, he motioned for the boy to remove his clothes with a wave of his hand. He busied himself by ripping off the plastic on the bottle and wetting a small cotton ball. With Hinata's chest and legs exposed, Kuroo almost wanted to recoil. He understood the source of all those new lines on Daichi's face now. There seemed to be a new one every other week between his brows or at the corners of his mouth. Kuroo just sighed at the sight of the pale, battered body and proceeded to clean all of the gashes and cuts, not failing to notice the slight expression of guilt which clouded over Hinata's face. 

"What happened, Shouyou?" he questioned gently. He felt Hinata take a sharp breath then expel it loudly and slowly. It must be something serious, Kuroo concluded. 

"Daichi-san kicked me out." Kuroo's hand paused over a particularly nasty wound on Hinata's left forearm. He glanced at Hinata's face through a messy tuft of black hair. 

"What do you mean?" 

Hinata's whole body seemed to sag at the question. His skin and hair appeared to drain of color and luster right before his very eyes. 

"I'm done. He kicked me out of the Crows. Even kicked me out of the apartment...I...I don't..." Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes, and the young teen rushed to quickly wipe them away with the back of his fist, discarding any evidence that he was at all affected by the harsh words from the man he had always looked up to and cared for. Kuroo tried to conceal the look of pity which was taking over his features. It had been fairly obvious that something like this was going to happen soon. Daichi had all but said so. And honestly, Kuroo didn't have it in him to disagree. He felt a dull, empty ache every time he saw Hinata, all too young and all too vibrant, sporting a new scar more severe than the last and eager to gain another. Hinata had not been meant for this life. Not at all. 

"What are you going to do?" He placed the last bandage on Hinata and packed away the other first aid materials. A hot, soothing beverage seemed appropriate for the heavy atmosphere, so he ambled into the kitchen and retrieved two mugs for some coffee. 

"Daichi-san wants me to go to school." Kuroo chuckled silently at the clear, stubborn tone of voice. Hinata was quite the master of escape, a great asset to the Crows and a giant migraine to Daichi. If there's one thing the boy refused to do above all else it was to be forced into institutionalized education. The young ginger was adamant, and it caused a-many a fight in the Sawamura household. 

"You should go," Kuroo nodded, refusing to acknowledge the, no doubt, look of betrayal as he poured the earthy, brown drink into the mugs. 

"Why do you always take his side?" Hinata childishly ignored the proffered mug and curled himself deeper into the worn couch. 

"Because Daichi's always right. Except when I'm right which means I put up a weak argument, throw out a few light threats, then quietly acquiesce and go along with whatever he says." Kuroo blows a cool stream over the steaming mug with a slight grin then sticks the tip of his tongue in the dark liquid. His tongue quickly retreats as it numbs and throbs from the scorching heat. He throws an agitated look at the mug before setting it off to the side. 

"But that doesn't make sense at all. Why don't you just do what you want, what you think is right? Why does it feel like nobody gets a choice in all this damn business?" Hinata demanded with the typical outrage and indignation of a teenage boy on the brink of manhood. Kuroo remained calm and contemplative. He combed a hand through his already ratty and bedraggled hair, fingers catching in clumpy knots. 

"Don't get the wrong idea, Shouyou. Daichi's not a tyrant or anything. We're all here of our free will. We all follow him dutifully because we want to. Daichi was able to build this business from the ground up out of nothing. A lot of times helping out more than any of us could pay in return. You know this feeling well," Kuroo pointed out, raising his eyebrows in anticipation of a challenge. Hinata merely thinned his lips and remained quiet. "And as for me, well I usually listen to him 'cause he's usually right. He's a smart man, Daichi is. Very wise and very pragmatic. But under that hard veneer of steadfast leadership is a fragility. Daichi cares for you like blood of his blood. That's why he's being so harsh, you understand?" 

Hinata did understand. But the lure of justice and adrenaline which membership into the Crows offered him outweighed any nostalgia he had for a normal boyhood. Especially after his mom. And Natsu. One would correctly assume that his reluctance to attend school was due less to a dislike of rules and social standards and more to an aversion of remembering. 

He shook his head as if expelling the storm of thoughts in his mind and clasped his hands together, tapping the knuckles of his thumbs against his forehead. 

"I feel so trapped, Kuroo," he whispered, "I can't stand being in my own skin. My mind. I just can't stand it." He glanced up at Kuroo with glassy eyes, pleading. Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck and breathed out a heavy sigh. 

"Come on, Shouyou. You don't have to jump into anything right away. Just rest a while and think on it okay?" Kuroo stands beside the couch, a hand on Hinata's back exerting a gentle pressure. When Hinata finally rose off the couch, Kuroo promptly pulled his small body against his chest, cradling his head with a large hand. 

"Everything's going to be okay, Shouyou. I promise." And Kuroo prayed he was right. He gave Hinata one last squeeze then pushed him in the direction of the bathroom. "Clean up a bit. I'll have some spare clothes and the couch set up for you in a second." 

Hinata merely nodded, rubbing his eyes with a bloody fist. 

Kuroo wakes up to bright light filtering through the blinds. He raises an arm to ward off the harsh rays and tries to comprehend the numbers on his phone. It reads 12:17 which is about the usual time Kuroo gets up after a night shift at the radio station. 

He sits up in the bed, hair resembling a bird's nest and sheets tangled around his long legs. It takes some fierce yawning and some back-cracking stretches before Kuroo starts to form the beginnings of any coherent thought. 

Peering down the hallway, he notes only the muted sounds of the bustling city during the noon rush. Hinata usually never stays for too long when he does crash over at Kuroo's, flying away without even a quick goodbye and leaving a mess of sheets and pillows in his wake. Daichi had never been able to break him of this rude habit, and Hinata had never been patient enough anyway to wait for others to rise from sleep. 

Scooting off his bed, he grabs the nearest shirt off the floor and roughly tugs it on before walking down the hallway to confirm what he already suspected. No Hinata in sight. He sighs heavily. Something he's been doing a lot lately. 

Ever since Hinata had turned sixteen it seemed as if he'd been showing up at Kuroo's door more and more (not really though since he finds it easier to just break in than wait to be invited like a normal person). 

It was obviously a problem with Daichi. Kuroo knew that Daichi could clearly see Hinata's weakness and made a point to limit his involvement in the Crows because of them, and that Hinata, stubborn and strong-willed, resented him for it. A Cold War existed between the two, and it gripped Kuroo painfully to witness the crumbling of their relationship. He could see the sadness creep into Daichi's eyes and age his skin more every day. Daichi, who as a young man in the midst of college, took a young orphan under his wing without hesitation. He housed him, fed him. Tried to give him a family to stand in for the one that'd been so brutally ripped away. It is no surprise that Daichi is straining under the weight of what must feel like failure. Did I fail him, Kuroo? No. You did the best you could. 

It took one look around the room to know that he should get busy and finish some work and only three seconds to decide he didn't feel like it, escaping to his bedroom and wanting to will away reality for a few more hours. 

When he woke this time, it was to the sounds of clinking and shutting doors. Kuroo squinted in confusion and rolled out of bed to hurry down the hall. He was met by the sight of a dark-haired man with broad shoulders standing with his back to Kuroo, holding up one of the blankets he leant Hinata and folding it over several times. The man turned around at the thumps of Kuroo's footsteps, his eyes immediately crinkled and a hearty, warm laugh broke from his lips. 

"Kuroo, are you ever going to fix that ridiculous hair of yours?" he chuckled. 

Kuroo looked back, unamused. "Are you ever going to stop tormenting me about it?" he deadpanned. 

Daichi just scoffed and turned back to his task. Kuroo contemplated walking over and helping Daichi tidy his own apartment but thought better of it and grabbed a seat on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and shrugging his hands behind his head. He watched Daichi bustle around his apartment like some kind of personal maid and let himself enjoy the sight. But it didn't last for long as Daichi was quick to realize Kuroo's uselessness and swiftly stopped to pop Kuroo with a towel. It kind of really hurt, but Kuroo managed to hide the grimace of pain behind a snicker. 

"So what may I ask brings you to my lavish estate?" He made a grand sweeping motion with his arms as if to show off his life of luxury. 

Daichi just smiled and threw the used towel in the hamper. He took a seat in one of the chairs next to the couch and relaxed his body into the worn leather. "How's Hinata?" he asked gently. His eyes were searching and slightly desperate. Kuroo decided to tell him the truth. 

"I think he's getting worse." 

His friend closed his eyes in defeat, body sagging and face marred with frown lines. Kuroo had known Daichi forever and could read the lines of his face like his own. He knew every twitch and curl and exactly what they meant. Yet he couldn't do anything about it. 

Kuroo hopped up and went to the kitchen to make some coffee. He noticed Daichi had already cleaned the mugs from last night and reached to grab two new ones. The coffee maker was set to make coffee at around 12:30 every day. The brown liquid was predictably cold by now, so Kuroo poured a bit into each mug and set them in the microwave. Once they were hot, he added a few special sugar cubes and returned to the living room. 

Kuroo leaned over Daichi to set the mugs on the table in front of him. As he pulled back, he paused over Daichi's neck. Tan skin and finely cut hair at the nape. It looked soft. It all looked soft. And before he knew it Kuroo's lips had found their way to the edge of Daichi's hairline to exhale a soft kiss. A spasm ran through his body, and his eye jolted open. Oh God. 

He hadn't mean to do it. But it happened and fuck what does he do now. Kuroo pulls away, jerky and awkward. But then a hand is suddenly gripping him, fingers encircled around his wrist. Daichi leans back in the chair and turns his head to look up at Kuroo. His face is soft and blank and completely unreadable and Kuroo is totally not freaking out right now. And then he's falling. Falling forward because Daichi had tugged on his arm and reached around his neck to bring their mouths together with a heady force. Their mouths were open and savage. Oxygen circulating between their bodies. Daichi was standing now with an impatient hand pulling at Kuroo's shirt. Kuroo laughed and grabbed Daichi's thick waist. 

He brought his lips up to Daichi's ear and whispered, "Come with me." 

Kuroo dragged Daichi behind him, laughing behind his shoulder in delirium. He felt electric and high. He'd never imagined those grabby fingers pulling at his waist, pinching his skin and caressing his body, would be Daichi's. Couldn't fathom it. 

They'd reached his bedroom, and Kuroo turned around to snake his arms around Daichi again, walking backwards. Their foreheads touched and their mouths met in between light chuckles. Kuroo looked into Daichi's eyes and noticed a mischievous glint lurking in the corners. His friend's mouth twitched into a crooked smile and then suddenly he was being pushed to the bed. 

He let himself fall. And fall. And fall. Falling. Why was he falling? He felt the air knock out of his lungs and the adrenalin speed through his veins. Blood pulsed painfully around his brain. Why was he falling? 

Kuroo jolted out of sleep. Out of breath and drowning in the darkness. 

Oh. That's why.


End file.
